Hey guys! Remember me? Trying to pick this back up again. Read though the whole thing and got past some writers block
Alexander Knapp's shoes were dirty. He watched blood ooze from the hole of Tom Keen's execution bullet. Blood had spattered across the man's brown Bruno Magli's and up his khaki trouser leg. Knapp should've worn lighter colors. He also should've laid plastic. Keen's skull had concaved from the 10mm colt Knapp still held in his hand. Red and pink gore had puddled out, staining the carpet.
Lip curled, Knapp turned away from the body and walked to his desk, dropping the weapon down on its surface with a dull thud. He preferred the 10mm, commonly mistaken for the .45 colt1911. The 10mm offered more velocity and he liked that, more energy working in his favor.
The dull trilling of the dial tone hummed in his ear. He scraped the toe of his loafer against the wood of his desk, smearing the blood onto the wood. Eyes narrowed, the man glowered at the body crumpled in front of him, disgusted with the mess and how much this was inconveniencing him.
"Property management," answered the voice on the other end.
"I need service," replied Knapp.
"What package please?"
"0727-EX." These codes always annoyed the man, but he knew they were necessary in case of phone tapping or surveillance.
There was a pause on the other end. A soft click, almost as if the line was being transferred before the voice spoke again, the politeness gone, cold compliance taking its place.
"How soon?"
"Now."
"We're on our way."
There were no goodbyes before the call was ended.
Silence filled the office, slithering into his ears and stilling his thudding head. The flaming anger he had felt was starting to subside, the finger that had pulled the trigger now idly tapping on the armrest of his chair. Knapp's other hand was brought up to his face and he pursed his lips against his fingertips, sniffing against the coppery scent that was starting to fill the room. Knapp's hazel eyes were as hard as stone as he leaned back farther in his chair and fished out the money clip from his pocket.
The item had been on Schmidt's body when he was killed. Alexander Knapp's initials had been etched into the silver years ago. That stupid woman had no idea how much that meant, this one item. It meant more than the thick folded bills that it kept, more than all the money. Knapp's fist clenched around the money clip as he remembered that bitch's words.
He wasn't even your best employee.
Schmidt didn't have to be his best employee… but he was the only employee he had wanted to keep. He was the only one that could've continued this empire that Knapp had worked so hard to build. Twenty-six and full of potential. The kid didn't have any influences outside of Knapp, didn't have any ulterior motives. All the young man had were the orders that were given to him. That sort of blind, unquestioning loyalty was a rare thing now and it had been wasted. Knapp never gave gifts…but he had made an exception with the money clip. It had been given to the young man as a show of recognition and appreciation. In fifteen years Schmidt would've been the prime choice to take over the business.
But the kid was dead.
Tom had been loyal…once. Knapp looked at him, past the fist that held the money clip. A weaker loyalty, something that was easily swayed by money and sex. In the beginning, he had wanted to assist the empire. Tom had wanted to help smuggle in the roots of the franchise and help them grow into something even more powerful. Good looks had been his tool. Beautiful people can stand out in a crowd yet be invisible if they wished it. Charm had assisted him in gathering information and a smile had helped him build trust with contacts. He had been the obvious choice to send in after Elizabeth….
"But now look at you," Knapp murmured to the body. "Making a mess on my floor, the best job you've done yet."
By the time the knock had alerted him out of his thoughts, Tom's blood had started to tack, growing sticky the longer it was in contact with air. Knapp stood up and stepped over Keen's cooling body and opened the door. Three men stood before him, covered head to toe in biohazard gowns and face masks, holding black duffel bags and buckets. Knapp stepped aside and they quickly moved inside the office, scattering with their gear. Two of the men went to the sides of the room and produced box cutters, running them along the seams of the carpet where it met the wall. The third man stooped next to Tom's body and pulled out pliers and a pair of hand-held garden sheers.
The sound of the jaws of the sheers snapping through the bones of Tom Keen's fingertips made Alexander Knapp turn away from him and towards the door. A fourth man stood before him, clad in black tactical pants and a long sleeved black shirt. His boots were polished to a mirrored shine, buffed to perfection with military practice. Cropped white hair didn't match his age, early thirties, and a scar made the corner of his upper lip lilt upwards making him have a permanent sneer. The man had tried to hide it with a thick mustache and goatee, much too dark for the whiteness of his hair. His eyes were the color of dark earth.
"Hello, Mr. Knapp."
"Kristopher."
Kristopher pulled out a narrow cylinder from his pocket and brought it up to his face. Pressing a blue button, he took a drag on the vaporizer and blew a cloud of white smoke into the hallway. It had a smell similar to tobacco.
"Trying to wean off the cigarettes I see," Knapp mused.
Kristopher tilted his head back and regarded him. Knapp wasn't insulted by this, Kristopher Greene was an independent contractor in the crime world that Knapp inhabited. It was common knowledge that everyone liked to stay on good terms with him. Kristopher Greene was the man you wanted to call if you needed a mess cleaned or a body moved. The man also dabbled a bit in evidence tampering. He could make a crime scene appear any way his client asked, an invaluable tool if anyone needed to be framed. Kristopher had studied under the famed Mr. Kaplan, but had branched off when alliances were beginning to be made between Kaplan and Reddington. Kristopher Greene wanted to be completely independent, unflappable with no alliances to betray the secrets of his business. No favors or gifts…just monetary transactions.
"Make sure that when you're done you check for wisdom teeth." Kristopher spoke past Knapp, who turned and looked as one of Kristopher's men held the pliers in one hand and was wrenching Tom's jaw open with the other. A Tupperware container sat next to the body, filled with what looked like fingers. Tom's hands were now just palms, red stumps where the digits had been cut.
The worker nodded and muttered a "Yessir," as he closed the pliers around a molar and yanked. The tooth clinked in a glass container next to his knee.
Kristopher gained a reputation as being the best at making bodies unidentifiable…if the body was found at all. Tom Keen would no longer exist once Greene was done with him.
"What type of carpet do you want?" Greene asked Alexander. He heard the ripping fabric as the other two workers began to pull the carpet up.
Knapp sighed in remorse. He had been a fan of the taupe colored plush carpet, but it had not hid dirt well….or blood. He had to be practical now.
"Strip it and just used the wood floor underneath. It will be easier to take care of."
"You don't have to drive me to my doctor," Elizabeth said, even though she was nestled comfortably in the back seat of Red's town car. Her file was on her lap and she liked how thin it was, not many problems. Some agents she knew had books of injuries and mental breakdowns. Even Ressler was starting to get too comfortable with his pills.
"Nonsense," Red smiled, leaning against the corner of his seat and the door. Sun shone through behind him and made the lenses of his sunglasses a warm brown. A tan fedora sat on his knee.
Red hadn't joined her at the task force's headquarters in the morning, instead he had paid for her to have a ride to her home to shower and change. He also had provided her enough money for a stop back home before her doctor's appointment. He and Dembe would then pick her up.
Lizzie hated going to the doctor for the sheer fact that she hated admitting there was a problem. She didn't like to think about something not operating correctly with her body or mind. However, she needed to jump though the hoops of protocol so she could put this whole thing behind her.
"I think Dembe and I will find a place to have lunch while you are at your appointment," Red mused, turning to look behind him out the window at the Washington streets. "Shame…I've spent so much time in this city, but I've never gotten to actually explore it. I've always been here on business."
"My friends and I used to go out to this divey bar after classes when we had free time at Quantico," Lizzie said, a small subtle smile on her lips. "They had live music on the weekends if I remember right. Jazz, Blues, some Latin bands, good dancing."
A hum resonated from next to her. She looked up and Reddington was regarding her with a slightly cocked head. "I thought you've told me you're not one for dancing, my dear."
Elizabeth's heart beat a little faster when she felt the warmth of Red's words reach her ears. She was beginning to like that she was the target of his teases. "I'm no good at ballroom dancing."
"It's a Friday today," Red mused. Lizzie didn't have to be back at work until next Friday.
The town car had pulled up to the clinic in no time. Red didn't want them to already be at their destination, he enjoyed sharing his back sat with Elizabeth. The air between them thickened in a little awkwardness…neither of them knowing exactly what to do. Dembe moved to get out of the driver's seat, but Red interrupted him.
"Let me get the door, Dembe. Don't worry."
Red placed his hat on his head and quickly exited the back seat. He walked around and by the time he opened up Lizzie's door her cheeks were kissed with a light blush, which delighted him. Ever the gentleman, Red extended a hand and Lizzie accepted it as she climbed out of the car. Raymond boldly kissed her check and smiled. Electricity shot through her and the blush deepened. The heat of her cheek burned his lips and Raymond all but grew lightheaded. He was thankful for his years of experience that had built up his poker face into something impenetrable. Cool and collected on the outside, but inside Raymond Reddington was nearly soaring.
"I'll see you soon," he hummed close to her ear.
Lizzie clutched at her medical file and nodded before setting off towards the clinic. The hospital smelled clean and the outside world was muted the moment she stepped through the door. Everyone seemed to speak in polite hushed voices. Lizzie was familiar with the layout of this hospital, Unity Health Clinic. She headed up the stairs, past a wall fountain that sent water trickling down a stone surface.
The secretary smiled as Lizzie approached the desk. "I have an appointment with Dr. Singh."
"Of course! May I see a driver's license and insurance card please?" the woman habitually answered.
Elizabeth produced the cards and was told she could have a seat in the lobby. She was also provided a mental health questionnaire that she could fill out if she so chose. She wasn't sitting for very long before she felt a buzzing in her pocket. A text from Nick's Pizza
Was the name of that bar Mikey's?
Liz scoffed softly and shook her head, giving a small smile to the phone. She looked up to make sure no one was watching her.
Mikey's Music Café…how did you know?
The quickness of Red's response told her he had been watching for her reply.
Believe it or not…I actually know some things, Lizzie. I've been around ;)
He had actually sent her a smiley face.
She dared flirt back All the better for me.
"Elizabeth Keen?" the nurse called. Elizabeth looked up. "Dr. Singh is ready for you."
Elizabeth stood and tucked the phone back into her pocket. Let's get this over with, she thought to herself as she headed towards the overly-smiling young doctor's assistant.
All the better for me.
Red couldn't help but smile to himself.
"You're smiling like a teenager," Dembe said. Red looked up at his partner as he set down two plates. Raymond had ordered a BLT from the Café they were visiting and Dembe ordered a salad. "You really like her."
"I haven't been hiding it well, my dear friend," Red sighed as he slipped his phone into the pocket on the inside of his suit coat.
Dembe smiled as he tossed the salad with his fork, distributing the dressing. "She is beautiful."
"Mmhmm," Red hummed, leaning back in his chair and tracing the edge of his plate with a finger.
"You've always liked beautiful women."
Red looked up at his friend, Dembe's face warm through his sunglasses lens.
"She is also young."
"I know this."
Dembe chewed thoughtfully before setting down his fork. "Will you be able to keep her once she knows how involved you were in her past, Raymond?"
"I don't want to keep her, Dembe," Red replied, his jaw ticking. "I want her to stay."
"This is new, Raymond, this is different. Different things can be dangerous."
"I wasn't prepared for this, Dembe."
His friend sipped at his water and made sure to meet his eyes. "I like it when you are prepared. It keeps us alive."
Red tapped his thumb against the tabletop.
"I understand Dembe, I do." Red turned his face to the sun and savored the warmth. He was catapulted back to that steamy bedroom, the warmth of her thighs on the sides of his face. Red cut the memory short to make sure he didn't lose himself. "I will always keep us safe."
"Good," Dembe trusted his friend. He noticed Raymond hadn't started to eat. He hoped he hadn't stifled Red's newfound happiness. The man picked at his lettuce before he spoke, breaking the silence between them. "Besides…I guess having a girl around wouldn't hurt. It's been the two of us for too long."
Red laughed and Dembe smiled, white teeth glinting with his happiness. "Eat your sandwich Red."
We're outside Liz's phone read. She had been standing in the vestibule waiting for the car to return, a stamp of good health and a signed form stating she could return to work after six days of rest tucked away in her file. I can't wait to get out of this business suit, she thought to herself as she walked outside to the car. Red, ever the gentleman, had gotten out and was sure to open the door before she reached the vehicle.
He stepped close to her and she could smell his cologne. "Clean bill of health?"
"Good to work after six days," Elizabeth answered before getting into the car.
Once back in the car Red asked, "Are you hungry?"
"A little, but I can make it until dinner."
"Good…we're going to Mikey's," Red said, turning and leaning back in the seat to face her better. A mischievous little smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "We are? Tonight?"
"Yes. There's a blues band playing tonight, I checked their calendar."
Lizzie was smiling to herself and Red was watching her. He was staring at the lines that flowed around her face, the curve of her jaw as it reached up to the plump coral of her bottom lip. Her blue eyes crinkled and the sunlight tangled itself in her eyelashes.
"What is it?" Red chuckled. He gave in to the infectiousness of her smile.
"You're a little overdressed for Mikey's."
"I can dress down…not everything I own is a designer suit." He regarded her. "In fact…you've seen me in a t-shirt and sweats..." his voice trailed off like the rumble of distant thunder.
Lizzie gave him a sideways glance, "Good point."
Comfortable silence grew between them. Red couldn't look away from her…he wanted to pull her to him right then and there in the back seat of the car. Wanted to claim her as his and drive away to an airport….leaving this place for something with azure waters and white beaches.
"You're welcome to stay at the apartment tonight…if you wish." The offer was a low murmur that toyed with Elizabeth's ears. For a second panic shot through Raymond and the possibility that she would say now, politely decline with some excuse.
"Drop me off at home, I can relax and have some lunch, pack a bag. Pick me up tonight and we can go to Mikey's," Elizabeth smiled back at him. His heart soared.
Dana's hotel room was small…dirty too, but she didn't care. She wouldn't be sleeping there anyway. She just needed a place to sit in the silence. Her nerves had been fried since she had gotten Tom off of her tail. She needed quiet.
Her duffel bag sat on the bed and her pistol was clenched in her hand. The second she had gotten some privacy, Dana had pulled it out of the duffel and held it close to her. She was expecting Tom to burst through the door, miraculously healed and enraged. After two hours of sitting in the darkness, she knew she was safe. For now.
The room smelled like fake pine trees and the carpet had been worn down to an indistinguishable pattern. Dana pulled out a computer and set it up on the cheap desk. The chair creaked when she sat down and woman placed on the desktop next to the laptop, ready to use in case of emergency. The shotgun was still in the bag. Only the glow of the screen lit the room. She had tossed her phone off the side of a bridge into the river, convinced that she could be tracked if she used it. The computer was a little safer, although she could definitely be found if someone was really trying. She'd have to buy a new one tomorrow.
With a quiet mechanic hum, the computer complied as she typed into the search history.
Bars near me.
A drink was risky now…but Dana couldn't help it. She needed something to dull her nerves, make her head fuzzy. As much as she depended on control, even the strongest need a little bit of liquid courage now and again. She wanted a bar that was popular, but away from the tourist areas. If it was a slow night, she would leave. Crowds were a necessity, she needed to be able to blend in. Her pursuers might be able to find her if she went to a tourist bar, something well known. They might keep watch for her in more well-known parts of town.
Dana began clicking though Yelp reviews. Her eyes scanned for key words. Quaint…popular…different…She found one that worked. Diamond in the rough…a dive bar. And it had music to boot, that was a plus. Dana scanned the reviews. Bang for your buck, stiff drinks at half the price of the more popular bars. It opened at seven. Dana glanced over at the clock…5:30. She had some time to shower and wash the fear and sweat off of her. The woman grabbed a pen and wrote down the name and address of the bar.
Mikey's Music Café
224 Lincoln Ave
Washington DC
